Who's the Enemy?
by MissScaryKitty
Summary: Eric Finch is chasing the terrorist Gwen Stockman, through the tube tunnels of London after she tries to break into a government building. What will he do when he finally catches up to her? Frankly he's tired of the whole thing. CHAPTER 3 FINALLY UP!
1. Chapter 1

I don't own V or the book or the movie.

Finch was just about to leave his office and go home not but an hour ago when he had gotten a call that his suspect, the known terrorist, in some circles, freedom fighter Gwen Stockman was escaping Finger Men through the condemned subway tunnels in the Whitehall area. Needless to say he left the office immediately and went after her. She had been caught trying to break into a government building, now she was just trying to get away with her life. Finch knew he had to get to her before Creedy did. If she was caught by anyone else she'd be dead before the day was out, leaving only another loose end to his case. Oddly Gwen's case weaved in and out of code name V's. If he could get her alive and ask her a few questions he might be able to figure out how to get to V before the fifth of November came around.

Finch felt a sinking feeling in his stomach as he watched the injured terrorist leader. One of the Finger Men must have gotten a shot off and hit her, he thought noticing the blood. She looked to have a slight limp as she made her way down the condemned tracks. Obviously fatigued, the woman looked like she could barely go any further. Dark blood stained her pant leg; she had one hand pressed against the dirty concrete wall to steady herself as she limped along the gravel floor.

Seeing the dark silhouette pointing a gun at her, Gwen slowly came to a halt. Her whole body ached from the bullet wound and she was dizzy from the blood loss. The terrorist slowly approached the figure; still unsure of who he was.

It was six months ago when her face showed up on Mr. Creedy's most wanted list. Since then he's had plenty of run-ins with her. This one however was perhaps the closest he has ever come to actually catching the rebel. He wouldn't blow it this time, he told himself. She was always so smug around him, condescending even. However, out of all the other members of the council, she showed strange sort of fondness towards him. She viewed his chasing her like a game; as if he would never catch her. This had frustrated him to no end until he fell into the routine of it all. She treated him like a friendly acquaintance rather than an adversary. It was all quite surreal to him. Regardless, Inspector Finch was sick of the girl's smart remarks and their constant run-arounds. The fact was; Mr. Finch was tired of this whole ridiculous routine. It wasn't just her, it was everything else including her. Especially codename V.

Finch stepped out of the shadows, gun drawn, and approached her. The woman's eyes focused on the man.

"Oh it's you," Gwen breathed out exhausted. She seemed almost relieved.

"Put your hands above your head," Finch ordered.

"That might be a little hard for me at the moment. I'm afraid one of Creedy's men clipped me in the tunnel back there."

Finch looked down at the bullet wound in Gwen's leg. It was definitely more than a mere graze. Whoever shot her hit her did a lot of damage. He only hoped that she wasn't hit in the artery.

"If you come with me I'll make sure you get medical attention," he said quietly. Gwen let out a halfhearted laugh.

"Thanks for the offer Inspector but I'm afraid I can't do that." She then started to limp away from him. Her determination was strong. Finch had to admit, there was something undeniably sad about watching her defeat. She barely had anything left in her yet she continued on.

"Don't try Miss Stockman, it's useless." He told her as he walked closer. Gwen only ignored him.

"How can you still have the gall to point that gun at me?" She asked suddenly. Her voice was quiet and sharp, as if she was taking offense at his actions.

It took a moment for Finch to speak. He felt a tinge of guilt as he realized he was aiming a loaded gun at a wounded, seemingly helpless woman. All he could manage to say was,

"Miss, it's my job."

"…Your job Finch!" She yelled, his answer really setting her off. "What about your conscience?... and it's Gwen Stockman; don't try and pretend you don't know my name. It's been six months now, I think you could learn it for Christ's sake."

"Miss Stockman, I'm sorry but I can't let you go. I promise there will be no black bags, no torture; you'll go straight to Scotland Yard."

"I'm not stupid Finch. Why don't you just tell me the truth?"

Silence.

"Is it because you think I'd prefer a lie?" She asked; regarding him with her large blue eyes that were filling with tears. "Well I don't. I've been lied to all my life. I don't want to be deceived or given hope, I don't want you to comfort me, and I don't want you making me promises you can't keep. I want the truth. People want the truth Eric Finch- even if it is horrible because at least if they know the stakes they can keep fighting … they can fight to the end." Her voice quivered only the slightest bit. He knew she was trying to control her passion, her tears. Within those words he felt a sea of welled up emotion. The tears that began to gather in her eyes were about to spill over; her nose and cheeks were now tinged with red. Mr. Finch could only stare at her. He could only take in the sadness and anger that radiated off of her.

"The thing about now is that I know the truth;" she said in a half whisper. "I know what will happen to me if I give in to you now and I'm not going to do it. I'm going to keep fighting. I have to Mr. Finch."

"I can't just let you go." He sighed, not being able to help but feel everything he was doing was wrong.

"I know," Gwen nodded. "I didn't ask you to."

Mr. Finch was shocked at her stubbornness; her bravery. He admired it, yet somehow he couldn't quite understand her.

"If you let me take you into custody I may be able to strike a deal with Creedy."

Gwen knew it was over. There was a long moment of silence.

"'It is the very last inch of us.'" She whispered so quietly that Finch couldn't hear her.

"No." She finally said. Her large eyes bore into his. "I don't think you quite understand how literal my statement was when I said I was going to fight to the end. I'm not going to let them take me Mr. Finch and I'm not going to let you take me either. So as I see it this can end two ways: you can let me go or you can kill me."

"And if I chose to not listen and take you in anyway?" He asked expectantly. "I can't let you go. You know that. And I'm not going to kill you." Conversations like this were getting old. He had grown weary of telling people that he could not help them.

"Then I'll run at the firing squad down the tunnel."

"So, regardless of what happens you're determined to have your blood on my hands?"

"Don't pretend I'm cornering you Inspector. You have the privilege to make the choice whether things end up that way or not. Look at me. I'm the one who's helpless here; the one who's being hunted down like an animal through the sewers. Has the enemy ever wanted what's best for you?"

"Depends on the views of the enemy," He mumbled.

"You don't believe that Inspector. Others would have killed you if they had the chance. I was at least five feet away from you with a gun that night in the Old Bialy; did I kill you? No. I'm not your enemy Mr. Finch."

Finch recalled the night in the Old Baily where Gwen had spared his life. She had every opportunity to kill him, yet she didn't.

"Why did you do that?" He asked.

"What else was I going to do?"

She was a woman of few words, none of what she said made sense to him yet he lowered his gun anyway. She wasn't an expert at chaos like V; she was a citizen taking charge more than anything. She was a hero of flesh and blood; not an idea. She was a martyr, and even though he knew her title would hold true he didn't want to see a woman die tonight.

"Go on then." He sighed tiredly, pocketing his weapon.

"Thank you Mr. Finch." She said breathlessly, not believing that he actually let her go. "Come on we have to get out of here before they see us."

"What?" He asked confused.

"Yes, you heard me right; _we_ Mr. Finch. There's only one way to go on the Circle Line and they know I haven't doubled back. If they see you down here and you tell them you haven't seen anything they're going to know you helped me. Besides we're only going to travel together as far as above ground and then we'll split up."

The night air was stinging upon entering his lungs. He could feel the tops of his cheeks and nose turning red from the cold. The woman he was supposed to have arrested was standing beside him wrapping her arms tightly around herself to try and maintain some warmth and letting out a warm breath that turned into white fog upon hitting the air. The tip of her nose was also tinged with red, whether it be from her previous tears or the frost he didn't know. He took small glances over in her direction and remembered staring at her photo in his office. She was really quite pretty he thought to himself. He often found himself looking at the 8x10 of her that Mr. Creedy had given him a few months ago wondering how or why such a nice-looking girl would get mixed up in all of this. Creedy had tossed it to him with so much disgust he was surprised to find himself staring at a pretty young woman. Perhaps that's why Creedy was so annoyed, he thought to himself. The first thing that struck him about the supposed terrorist was her large blue eyes. They were rather quite sad looking. He was sure that at one time, many years ago, they were once happy but he could only guess at that.

They stood there in silence until their eyes finally met. Gwen wished she didn't have to say anything that she could just leave. But she found herself feeling the need to at least do something rather than just go. The man did after all save her life. She opened her mouth to say something but she noticed he did as well. They both then stopped to let the other speak. Finally after a moment Mr. Finch spoke.

"You better wrap that properly or it'll get infected." He said softly, motioning to her injured hand.

Gwen was taken by surprise a bit and looked at her palm that was slowly dripping blood.

"Yes, thank you." She said hesitantly trying to put the injury out of sight. They were avoiding each other again, not sure whether to leave or not. Mr. Finch then tentatively spoke again,

"Here…" he said inching towards her as if she might run away. Looking from the wound to her face he reached out and gently took her arm in his hands. He noted that her fingers were trembling; from the cold or nerves he did not know.

"Hmm," he commented, still examining it. "This looks like it's going to need a couple stitches."

Looking at him she decided that he was the most normal man she had ever come across. Yet there was something endearingly odd about him that prevented him from being boring. Gwen had decided that his utter normalcy was what made him odd which in turn made him intriguing. No one was like that; not even the people who worked at her local mini mart were as stoic as he was. The weirdest cut was that his position in the government didn't fit him at all. It could be said that her curiosity of him was as equal to his about her.

As she stared at him as he examined her hand. He was surprisingly gentle. She could see where he'd be a caring man. She was sure he was a lonely man. This thought made her brow furrow sadly, thinking of her own lonely existence. He was too busy in his examination to notice her staring at him.

After all the run-arounds and the stand-offs between them she realized that she still didn't know anything about the man who had been chasing her for the past six months. However she learned plenty in the past five minutes by just watching him. What she saw surprised her. She felt her heart warm a little. She was shaken out of her thought when he gently let go of her hand. Their eyes met,

"Well, nothing's broken," he told her. "It's just a flesh wound."

"Thank you." She said through the stillness.

"Goodbye then," he said quietly nodding at her. Stepping back from her he turned around and started to walk away.

"See you later then." She called back.

Finch couldn't help but grin slightly and he walked in the direction of Parliament. Gwen remained stationary under the lamplight, watching as he disappeared back into harshness of reality.

AN- Hey all, thanks for reading. If you liked it you'd send me a little review... please... please... please ... even if you thought it was marginal could you send me a review????


	2. Chapter 2

AN: Here's another one shot in the series! Gives us a bit of background on Gwen. Hope you like it.

* * *

"Finch, here's the file on the girl. Just take it." Creedy snapped throwing the heavy tome on his desk. The large thud the red binder made irritated Finch. Looking at the binder, he let out a little sigh. The inspector pulled it towards him and looked up at the man.

"Creedy, just so you know, I didn't ask to take charge of this investigation," he informed him.

"You think I'm upset?" Creedy sniffed, a snarky grin spread across his face. "Hardly, I'm glad to get the little bitch out of my hands. I have better things to do with my time than sort out this filth."

Finch wanted to roll his eyes at the condescending tone Creedy put on but decided against it. It would surely induce an argument and he'd rather not have Creedy around any longer than he had to. Finch knew Creedy would like nothing better to do than track down the terrorist himself so he could tear her apart inch by inch; he enjoyed playing with his prey before devouring it. Suttler reassigning the project over to Finch was like taking Creedy's fun away.

Finch opened the file and a picture of a young woman stared up at him. He raised his eyebrows in surprise.

"Yeah," snarled Creedy. "That's what I thought when I first saw it. Have fun."

Finch's stomach knotted at Creedy's implication of having fun. He didn't even want to begin to think about what Creepy Creedy would do to this woman if he actually was able to catch her.

The order came out about a year ago that this young woman in the file, Gwen Stockman, needed to be taken in for processing. She had already killed at least three government agents in the pursuit of stealing government property, all of whom had families. What was more than the loss of life was the embarrassment she had created for the state. Every day she went free was another day the underground mocked them. Although the opposition was next to none nowadays, any interference with government procedures must be immediately rectified at the threat of looking weak.

Flipping through the file Finch found several surveillance photos and an inch thick volume of an informational profile. Reaching into the plastic jacket he took out the 8X10 of his suspect and studied it so he could make her out in a crowd.

She didn't look like a killer, nor did she look like a terrorist. However Finch knew that appearances were often misleading. The first thing he noticed about her was her eyes; they were the saddest eyes he'd ever seen. They told a story, he thought to himself, perhaps it's all in the file. They were large and wide. Although the photo was in black and white he could tell that they were blue because they showed up as a lighter grey on the paper. She stared at him through the photo; a strong person, but burdened with so much sadness… like all the suffering of the world had been dropped on her shoulders.

Sighing, Eric put down the photo and turned to the file. It said that Gwen Stockman was born in London and protested the war when she was only 16. By the age of 19 she started her own humanitarian aid group up in Richmond University where she studied. After St. Mary's and Three Waters the group branched out into the medical field, trying to help the victims and their families. After Suttler was elected to office and the cure for the virus was found three weeks later Gwen Stockman became political and things started to get ugly. The humanitarian group she headed also turned political, soon becoming a violently radical student group.

Then Suttler instituted the detention camps which began rounding up undesirables. Many of Gwen's members left for fear they'd be hunted down. A few months later the group was forced underground. They had no one left in the government to support them and the people were running scared. After Norsefire took over, Gwen Stockman all but disappeared off the map. 2 years later an underground group called Prospero emerged, the leader being rumored to be Gwen Stockman. She had a small but intensely loyal following.

Suttler assigned the problem of arresting the members of Prospero to Creedy who had just been given a promotion in the government. Creedy rounded up the group one by one by weeding them out and sent them to processing. Gwen Stockman was never found. She became nonexistent again for 15 years, only to appear once more one month prior to the incident at the Old Bailey. As a punishment for his many failures, Suttler took Creedy off the job and transferred it over to Finch at Scotland Yard. Now this fat red binder on Finch's desk was the signal of the beginning of his problems with Gwen Stockman.

"Another girl?" said Dominic as he entered the office, coffee cup in hand. "What's gotten into these women's heads?"

"I don't know," Finch said, his attention turned to the surveillance photo of codename V. Only one month prior, he thought to himself, there must be a connection. "You wouldn't have anything to do with this would you?" He asked the photo of the mask man who only continued to mockingly smile back at him.

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Short I know but tell me what you think :)


	3. Chapter 3

**The Night at the Old Bailey:**

"Those are new." Eric Finch said eyeing the guns Gwen pointed at his chest with slight trepidation.

He had stumbled upon her quite literally while investigating the building for vandals. There had been a report of a disturbance at the Old Bailey earlier and he had decided to check it out, figuring it was just a couple of rowdy teenagers breaking curfew. He had made a full sweep of the bottom floor of the building when he heard a noise from upstairs.

Finch climbed the marble stairs to the second floor and nonchalantly made his way from room to room. Turning a corner he bumped right into a small figure. The person let out a frightened scream, causing him to jump back. Suddenly the stranger wasn't acting so scared anymore because they advanced on Finch and skillfully tackled him to the ground. Falling out of the dark hallway and into the light, Finch found himself staring up at Creedy's number one suspect, Gwen Stockman.

This was the closest they had ever come before… and this statement would be correct considering she was straddling his waist, pointing two guns at his chest.

Gwen carefully stood to her feet. She was fully on her guard, making sure to watch him closely.

Finch pushed himself up to his elbows but didn't dare go any further. Gwen never used guns before; at least her file didn't mention that she did. If he had to guess, this was probably her first time actually using one, although it looked like she had some prior training. He was afraid of what she might do if she got scared or started to feel like she did not have the upper hand. What he knew from similar situations such as this one was to let the person holding the gun feel like they were the one in charge.

"So what now?" He asked calmly, making sure to keep his hands in plain sight- all of his basic training was starting to kick in with a vengeance.

"Get up." She ordered harshly. She was scared, if only just a little bit, Finch thought noting the hostility in her voice.

Finch started to stand up when Gwen caught a glimpse of his shoulder holsters underneath his blue jacket.

"Stop!" She demanded; he froze immediately. Slowly, Gwen approached him. Reaching out, she pushed aside his jacket with her gun, revealing his weapon.

"I'll take it off." He told her gently. "I'm sorry, I forgot it was there."

"Slowly." She warned, holstering one of her guns and holding out her hand.

Finch pulled his gun out with two fingers and placed it in her open palm. Gwen threw the gun away, sending it skidding off into the darkness of the hall- she hadn't taken her eyes off of him once. Then her wristwatch started to beep; she had 60 seconds to leave the building before it blew sky high. V certainly had already evacuated the building and was waiting for her at the rendezvous point. It was her responsibility to get herself out safely, no one else's. However she didn't expect to run into trouble. Now she was faced with a dilemma, and less than sixty seconds to solve it in- the dilemma of course being whether or not to kill Inspector Finch.

She could always leave him, she reasoned with herself, her gun still steadily trained on him. However, she couldn't quite grasp the idea of leaving an unsuspecting, unarmed man in a building that was about to be blown up. It seemed cruel and inhuman. She knew she should just leave him there, he worked for Suttler- for everyone V and her despised. Yet glancing down at her watch, hearing the pounding of her heart in her ears and feeling her nagging conscience eating at her core, Gwen's morals became instantly muddled. Thirty seconds left; she had no time. So she made a command decision.

Holstering one of her guns again, Gwen snatched up Finch's hand and pulled him down the hall with her.

"Move!" She barked, roughly dragging the man behind her as she ran through the building.

Finch stumbled as he tried to keep up with Gwen's pace, feeling completely disorientated.

"Where are we going?" He demanded, pulling against her onward progression.

Gwen heatedly yanked him next to her and yelled, "Just Move!"

The stress and urgency in her voice made Finch realize that they were in danger. Not resisting her anymore, he followed her lead as she slid down the steep banister of the stairway to the bottom floor. The bells in the tower then started to ring in midnight.

A frantic yelp escaped Gwen, as she turned as grabbed Finch's hand once more to drag him across the main hall faster. She counted the ominous rings from the tower in her head… one, two, three, four…

Ripping her long, heavy coat from her shoulders, Gwen hooked it over her shoulder with one hand, readying herself to use it… five, six, seven, eight… Ramming through the front door of the Old Bailey, the frosty night air hit them like a smack in the face. They jumped down the front steps and into the empty street… nine, ten, eleven… "Get down!" Gwen yelled pushing Finch and herself to the ground… twelve… She threw her jacket over the top of them and braced her hands atop her head.

The sound of the explosion was near deafening as it tore through the silence of the night. The force of it pushed them forwards a couple of feet and rubble scattered around and on top of them. A burst of fiery light penetrated the fabric of the coat. Finch cursed next to her in shock.

A symphony blasted from the speakers above them, filling the streets with music. After the initial blast, Gwen threw the coat off of them and helped Finch to his feet. They both backed up, looking at the smoldering building that was the Old Bailey. Gwen's expression was one of triumph while Finch's was one of complete shock.

Fireworks shot through the air, exploding in a large crescendo of colored fire. People; couples, and whole families leaned out their windows to see the fiery spectacle in the street. They were struck with pure awe some with confusion and others with delight. The air in the city that night was simply electric.

"It's beautiful." Gwen said, euphorically.

"I'm so fucked." Finch muttered next to her.

They stood there for a minute, just taking in the sight before them then Finch turned to Gwen.

"This is not your usual decal," he told her, looking at her guns. "Who are you working with?"

Gewn gazed up at the blazing V in the sky as if she had not heard his question.

"Gwen… who is he?" Finch asked again.

Gwen looked over at the inspector. What she saw was worry in his eyes; she couldn't quite place what or who it was for.

"I wouldn't stay out here much longer." She warned softly, ignoring his pervious question. "Creedy's Fingermen will be here soon… Goodbye Mr. Finch." She said turning and walking away into the darkness.

Finch only stood there. He felt a sinking feeling in his gut as he watched her leave. She had saved his life, however he couldn't help but feel that she had become more dangerous a threat than she ever had been before. Whoever this new terrorist was who was training her would end up turning her into a monster.

Navigating the narrow streets Gwen tried to contemplate the events that had just taken place. She couldn't quite believe she had saved Inspector Eric Finch- one of Suttler's right-hand men. Thinking of V and how he would react dropped stones in her stomach. She was supposed to meet him on the rooftop before the bomb went off. If she didn't come up with a good excuse of why she was late he would know that something was wrong. Little did she know, V had other company on the rooftop with him that night; Evey.

Walking in the shadows of the alleyways, Gwen made her way back to the shadow gallery. The whole way, she pondered why it was that she let Eric Finch live that night.


End file.
